


A Sharp Dressed Man

by Avelera



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Clothing Porn, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, Makeover, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Photography, Pining, Podfic Available, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Suit Porn, Suits, passionate and fascinating letters (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: Hermann's latest book needs an author photo. However, when he's given a makeover and a suit that actually fits for the photo shoot, his appearance is so transformed that Newt mistakes him for his (much hotter) older brother, Dietrich.Hermann decides to play along.





	A Sharp Dressed Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarah1281](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/gifts).



> Special thanks to a BUNCH of people for making this fic happen!
> 
> \- Macremae for encouraging me to actually write the fic for the crack idea of Hermann getting a makeover.
> 
> \- Sarah1281 for pointing out that Hermann would totally run with Newt mistaking him as his older brother just to mess with him, which is how this story went from a 2,000-word joke fic to this 12k monstrosity.
> 
> \- To all my marvelous beta readers! Special shout-out to Actually_Crowley who is an amazing Newmann fic writer and you should go read their work immediately!
> 
> This crack idea came from the fact that Burn Gorman is an unfairly attractive man, but somehow the hair and makeup for Hermann conspire to make him look like an awkward fuddy-duddy despite the fact his cheekbones can cut glass. If Newt wasn't already aware of this, imagine how would he react if he saw Hermann with a makeover and a suit that actually fits? Thus this fic was born. I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **You can find an audiobook version of this story read by the author[here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8Ib33EYXSY).**

****It was the tenth anniversary of the publication of Hermann’s seminal work, “The Science of the Breach” and for the occasion, Hermann’s publisher had reached out with an interest in releasing an updated commemorative copy. The obligations were simple, and the cash advance was generous for the amount of work involved: a new introduction to be written by him, a new final chapter which would include any non-classified discoveries made since the original publication (as the underlying physics of the rest of the book were still sound) and a new author photo for the back cover. With any luck, the book would draw interest back to the struggling PPDC and stress its importance over the “Wall of Life” project currently siphoning away its funding.

All in all, it was a simple conclusion to accept, mathematical in its pristine logic. He would spend at most a day or two with the publisher’s team and the benefits for that work would pay back dividends in public awareness. He knew his work was of a higher class than the pop science drivel that lined the K-Science shelves, and it would allow the numbers to speak for themselves, which was always his preferred method of argument (not including the more _vocal_ form of argument he carried out regularly with the personal plague that was his lab partner).

In truth, the most obnoxious part of the whole affair would be the photoshoot. His publisher had generously found a local team in Hong Kong willing to come out to the Shatterdome for the shoot in order to limit the disruptions to Hermann’s day. A gesture he would have appreciated deeply, if not for the fact this particular photographer seemed to have… opinions, about Hermann’s personal style. Or lack thereof.

“What is wrong with using my own clothing, exactly?” Hermann frowned. “I was allowed to wear whatever I chose for the original shoot.”

“Yes, about that…” said the photographer, a Mr. Wu who seemed far more accustomed to photographing willowy models for fashion magazines. He made a face behind his colorful and clearly non-prescription glasses. Why would anyone even _want_ to wear such a garish shade of pink over one’s eyes were it not necessary? The man certainly looked the part for his profession, with a cashmere black turtleneck and an angled cut to his salt and pepper hair. An eccentric if there ever was one. Worse, in Hermann’s book, an _artist._ The man paused and seemed to reconsider whatever judgment he was about to cast on the original shoot, and said diplomatically, “We have a selection of wardrobe pieces in your size that would perhaps strike a better… tone, for this particular publication.”

“What tone could there _possibly_ be? It’s a work on physics, why should the audience have any interest in the appearance of the author?”

“A good photograph will boost sales,” Wu said patiently as if speaking to a small child. “A poor one could make you a laughingstock. Please allow my team to do its work, Dr. Gottlieb. We know you are a busy man, but I’m sure you can appreciate that this is a matter of _utmost_ importance.”

Hermann huffed a sigh in exasperation, wishing he could simply opt for no photo at all, but a glance at his watch revealed he’d already wasted ten minutes arguing the point and he had no desire to waste yet another hour. “Very well,” he said testily.

He regretted it immediately. He was herded into a chair, posed and prodded. A bewildering number of young women rubbed products on his face, in his hair, held up shirts to him and then took them away again for reasons that were entirely indiscernible. He changed into the one provided, too dizzy and turned around to scrutinize it, and then it was back in the chair for another brush-up to his features.

By the time they were done and a mirror was held up for his inspection (an empty gesture given he had no choice in the matter anyway) Hermann’s jaw ached from the hour spent gritting his teeth.

He could not for the life of him understand why they’d say they wanted a photo of him and then turn him into someone else entirely. All his blemishes were covered, the dark circles of late nights spent at his chalkboard gone. His hair was smoothed back and held in place with gel that gave it a hint of shine. His clothing clung in ways that were mildly annoying but not, once he stood and saw himself in the full-length mirror propped up between two of the _artists_ , anything particularly scandalous. He looked more like an extra in a Bond film with the black suit and crisp white shirt than a respected doctor of physics, but since there was nothing he wished to waste the time contesting, he let the matter go.

‘Look this way’, ‘turn that way’, sitting, standing, they propped him up and posed him like a doll, and all the while he watched the clock. Two hours had passed already, two perfectly good hours in the middle of a workday, but he feared if he made any more note of the time it would only prolong it. Only once the artists were gathered around a screen flicking through the photos did Hermann pointedly clear his throat.

“Ah yes, Dr. Gottlieb,” Wu said as if they had forgotten he was there. “We’ll review the photos and have a second round of shoots in an hour’s time. Feel free to take your lunch now if you wish.”

Hermann bristled and bit back a retort about how very _gracious_ the photographers were to order him about his day. It wasn’t worth the argument and the less he spoke the faster they would work and the faster they’d be out of his hair. His knuckles whitened around his cane and he gave a hard nod before turning on his heels and walking stiff-legged back towards the lab. With any luck, he could get an hour’s work in before he was summoned back for further indignities.

There was an odd mood about the Shatterdome when he stepped out of the office requisitioned for the shoot. It set Hermann’s nerves on edge, as he wondered if there’d been another attack, except his calculations put the next one months away. Perhaps it was yet another round of funding cuts, and his heart sank at the prospect as the oddness mounted, wondering if his father might be to blame. People _looked_ at him in the hallway, and those looks lingered in a way that crawled over his skin. His hair felt strange from the product used to smooth it back, and the borrowed suit clung to his body in ways he didn’t particularly enjoy, though there was nothing inappropriate about the sober black suit except that it was cut a bit more exactly to his form than he preferred.

It was a relief to finally reach the lab. Newton was absent from his work table, but as it was lunchtime it was hardly a matter of note. Actually, it would be a relief to have a whole blessed hour of silence to himself.

Hermann went to stand before his chalkboards, and his lips twisted in irritation at the sight. He’d lost his place, and now he recalled he hadn’t quite known how to go forward. Damned interruptions. He set his cane aside and sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms as he looked up at the piled numbers, searching for meaning in the scrawl. He muttered under his breath, losing himself in thought, when a voice had him nearly jumping out of the too-tight suit.

“Errm, can I… help you?”

Hermann frowned, jolted from his contemplation, and turned to see Newton standing behind him. His fingertips tapped together, fidgeting, and was that a _blush_ on the man’s cheeks? It wasn’t that warm in the lab. In fact, without his extra layers, Hermann was practically freezing.

“No,” Hermann said shortly and turned back to his equations. He started again when Newton appeared out of the corner of his eye, hands flapping in a wave to get his attention.

“Hey, you’re umm… Dietrich, right? Or was it Bastien? I gotta say, man, the family resemblance is _uncanny,_ but Hermann’s gone for the day and, uh…?” Newt trailed off and began to blush furiously at Hermann’s continued, baffled staring. His siblings were half a world away, and it was a year since their last visit. What on earth was Newton babbling about?

“Holy shit, I knew Hermann was the nerdy brother but this is _nuts_ ,” Newt muttered under his breath, as if Hermann couldn’t _hear_ him. Then Newton straightened and _smoothed his hair back_ , which did almost nothing to tame it, before shooting a grin at Hermann that could only be described as _roguish_. “Soooo, are you in town for long? Only I’ve got my lunch break now. I could, uh, show you around for a bit while you wait for Hermann to get back? Pretty rude that he didn’t tell you he’d be busy today.”

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann began with an exasperated huff. Of all the nonsense. Was the man truly blind or was this another prank? The last time Dietrich had visited was the year before, and Hermann had been _scrupulously_ careful to keep the two men apart so Newton couldn’t waste what little time Hermann had with his brother with inane, or worse, too-revealing conversation. Certainly Hermann most closely resembled his eldest brother of all his siblings, but it wasn’t as if they could be _confused_.

…Or could they?

Hermann’s eyes narrowed. A grin twitched at the corner of his lips that he quickly suppressed.

Oh, this was good, this was too good. He would have to thank Mr. Wu’s hair and makeup team later for so effectively disguising him. This would be enough ammunition against Newton to last him _years,_ he might very well be able to shut Newton up in the future by merely _mentioning_ this mixup took place.

“…Geiszler, was it?” Hermann said. He hardened his consonants, and just like that he was back in his kitchen as a boy, listening to his brother and mother speak German to one another with a Bavarian flare. Lars had moved his family to London for his career while Hermann was still a toddler, but Dietrich was a young teen by then and never lost his accent the way Hermann had. It was easy as breathing to mimic his brother, he’d done so thousands of times as a boy. “Dr. Newton Geiszler, my… brother’s colleague?”

“Please, call me Newt,” Newton purred and sidled closer. He leaned casually against Hermann’s desk, missed, overbalanced, righted himself with a squawk, and leaned in so close to continue that Hermann could make out the stains of neutralized Kaiju Blue dotting his work shirt. “All my friends do.”

“Does my brother call you ‘Newt’?” Hermann arched an eyebrow. It would be unusual for Dietrich not to call Newton by the name he requested, as the two of them were not professional colleagues (and, unlike Hermann, he had not grown accustomed to referring to Newt as ‘Newton’ over the course of their letters, making it nearly impossible to switch over as their relationship grew more casual, even flirtatious, before shattering irreparably with that first meetings). So, Newt it would have to be, at least until Newton caught on to the joke or Hermann grew tired of it. But strangely he found himself not wanting to end the charade just yet, instead warming to the idea of Newton’s _face_ when it finally occurred to him who he was speaking to (which should be bloody obvious already).

“Oh, Hermann? We’re not, uh,” Newt said and drew back, frowning in discomfort. “We’re not exactly friends, I don’t think. More like rivals these days. He always calls me _Newton,_ ” Newton dropped into his mocking English accent for his name, but then perked up. “But y’know, that’s just Hermann. _He_ can be a bit of an ass, but I’ve heard great things about you! He always said you were the cool brother, and I can see what he meant, dude. I mean seriously: specimen.”

Hermann floundered, feeling a blush heat his cheeks. This was ridiculous, how could Newton not see who he was by now? Sharing observations about him to his brother? Had Hermann overheard this conversation in the lab, he would have stormed in in a fury to put a stop to it…

… Which would have perfectly made Newton’s point. And Newton was right, he had spoken in glowing terms about Dietrich. The man had every social grace Hermann lacked. He certainly wouldn’t turn down lunch with Hermann’s colleague when it was so generously offered and there was nothing else to do but wait for Hermann’s workday to end. “You believe Hermann won’t be back for several more hours? It is true, I have not eaten today,” Hermann said. But Dietrich would be _polite_ , he would be _cordial_. “Though I do not wish to take you from your work…”

Newt’s grin was blinding. “Nah man, I’ve earned a break with a handsome stranger! It really is shitty of Hermann to leave you here all day, but he’s busy with some big publisher thing. Ooh, are you in town for that? It’s kind of a huge deal. I mean, don’t tell him I said this, _ever_ , but it’s totally what he deserves. Not the boring publisher meeting, but the reprint. That book is a goddamn masterpiece, fucking blew my mind back in ’15. It’s half the reason I opened Hermann’s letter, I could not believe _that_ Dr. Gottlieb was writing to _me_.”

“What was the other half?” Hermann said politely, just as Dietrich would. The man always had a way with small talk that Hermann never mastered. It certainly wasn’t curiosity that prompted the question.

“What?”

“You said the book was half the reason you opened my brother’s letter,” Hermann said. “What was the other half?”

Newton blushed and laughed, then rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. The top of his garish Kaiju tattoo peeked out from beneath his shirt collar. “Probably the author photo? Oh man, you _really_ can’t tell him I said this, but I sort of had this crazy crush on Hermann back in the day. When I first heard about him I had this image of _Dr. Gottlieb_ as this old guy because of how big he was in the field, but then it turned out he was a kid genius like me. That can be a rough deal, y’know, so our type have to stick together. Hermann already had a doctorate by the time he was twenty or something crazy like that, but unlike me he could actually _focus_ on shit so he was _way_ further in his career, practically tenured by then. So here I was expecting some old codger, which turned out to be _totally true_ , just not in the way I thought, and instead there’s this little baby _dweeb_ on the back cover. I don’t need to tell you this, Diet—can I call you Diet?—but your family has some _damn_ good genes. Except Hermann hid it under that freakin’ bowl cut and tweed like he was twenty going on two-hundred. I didn’t know that at the time, thought it was actually a kind of cool fashion statement, so, uh, I crushed pretty hard I gotta say. Wrote back to him that night.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “They’re probably going to end up changing that photo, huh? Shame. I’m gonna miss that shot of baby Hermann with his baby bow tie.”

Hermann rocked back at the tirade. Newton tended to ramble, and had very little filter for, well, anything but nevertheless… “Are you often this candid about my brother with strangers?” he said in a strangled tone.

Newt shrugged as if he hadn’t just confessed to fancying his colleague to a man he believed he just met. Hermann could almost envy that complete lack of self-awareness if his head wasn’t spinning and his heart wasn’t pounding. “You’re not a stranger, you’re his brother. I bet you have _hundreds_ more stories that are way more embarrassing than that, and I want to hear _all_ of them over lunch, my treat.”

“The Shatterdome cafeteria is free for personnel,” Hermann scoffed and cursed himself, quickly correcting, “…or so I’ve heard.”

“Dude, you’re Hermann’s brother _,_ and you’re gonna dish on the blackmail for me which is worth a _year’s_ salary in my book. I’m not taking you to a fucking cafeteria, no way. Besides you’ve got hours before he’s out of there, you might as well see a bit of Hong Kong while you wait,” Newt said. He straightened and gestured for ‘Dietrich’ to follow him.

Hermann panicked. His cane was hanging from the chair, just out of Newton’s sight, but if he took it now the jig would be up immediately. He could go a short time without it before the pain set in, but certainly not enough to walk around all of Hong Kong. He thought quickly. “Nevertheless, I don’t wish to go too far from the Shatterdome,” he said. The accent was growing more natural with every word. “In case Hermann gets out early. But there was a restaurant I saw nearby that looked appealing.”

“The dim sum spot? Yeah, that’s one of Hermann’s favorites! But maybe we shouldn’t go there, in case he wants to take you later?”

“It will be fine,” Hermann said in a rush, then gathered himself to add more smoothly. “And if he does, it can be our secret.”

Newt’s grin returned. “ _Nice_. Man, you are _way_ cooler than your brother, has anyone ever told you that?” he said over his shoulder as he grabbed his leather jacket from his side of the lab and headed in front of Hermann to the door.

While he did so, Hermann straightened carefully, ignoring the threatening bolts of pain racing through his body, but Dietrich did not share his stooped posture. The dim sum restaurant was only across the street, he should be able to manage it. “All the time, actually.”

“Dude, that’s kinda sad? For Hermann, I mean. No wonder he’s got such a complex,” Newt leaned against the heavy iron door of the lab to hold it open for Hermann as if he were indeed a gentleman. “Ah well, maybe if he actually got a haircut or surgically removed that stick from his ass, people wouldn’t say that.”

“A _complex?_ ” Hermann said with more of an edge than was strictly wise to maintain the facade. He drew to his full height and gingerly walked towards the door. No disasters, his muscles were warmed up from moving throughout the day, though he’d pay for this later. He was so focused on the act of simply walking unassisted and not giving away his limp that he hardly noticed Newton had gone silent until they stood side by side and he noticed Newton looking up at him. _Much_ further up at him than normal, when his hunch brought them to eye level.

Newton was… actually rather _adorable_ from up here, and he was staring up at Hermann with a slightly glazed expression. “Uh…” Newton said intelligently. “Complex. Yeah. Like, everyone told him he wasn’t cool, so he started believing it? You should talk to him about it. I sure can’t, he’ll just think I’m insulting him.” The dazed expression didn’t clear. “Wow, you are really tall.”

“Thank you?” Hermann said with a frown. It was preposterous how easily Newton had fallen for this charade, he was beginning to wonder if the man was having him on in return and this had devolved into an absurd farce, but he could admit it was rare that others saw him standing at his full height. Perhaps towering a few inches above Newton was more obscuring than he’d realized. “And I’ll have a word with him on… being _cool_ , I suppose.”

“Yeah! Do that,” Newton nodded vigorously. “Look, he’s a super genius who figures out _wormholes_ for a living. He’s a fucking rockstar but he’s got that damn chip on his shoulder because he bought into all those nerd stereotypes. You gotta own that shit, like I do! We’re working for the _resistance,_ literally saving the fucking world, there is _nothing_ more punk rock than that!”

Hermann smiled despite himself, touched by the thought. _Punk rock_ was not how he would have phrased it. Perhaps instead ‘noble’ or ‘heroic’, but when Newton put it that way, it was true they were in the trenches together, fighting the end of the world. For Newton to recognize that, for him to specifically think of _Hermann_ in such glowing terms… it was not what he’d expected. Then again, he’d never asked Newton his opinion on the matter. Once, he’d wanted to know Newton’s opinion on every matter, and at _that_ thought, Hermann’s smile faded.

Newton started down the hallway, a half step ahead and Hermann winced at the prospect of trying to catch up but, still babbling, Newt settled his gait without even looking so they were walking in sync with one another as if he had done it a thousand times. Which, he had. For everything short of an emergency, Hermann realized, Newt always made sure to walk at his pace, though obviously on his own he could go much faster. Strange that he hadn’t noticed before. He wondered if Newton knew he was doing it for ‘Dietrich’ as well.

“My brother never was one for the spotlight,” Hermann replied. It was something Dietrich would say, in fact, Hermann had overheard him do so once, on those rare occasions when he went home. “He prefers his solitude, or so I believe.”

“Yeah?” Newt said, casting a glance to the side at Hermann. Hermann searched his face for signs of mockery, for signs of subterfuge like his own, but found it curiously free of anything but Newt’s usual enthusiasm. “I guess that makes sense. But what about you, dude? I didn’t mean to talk about your brother the whole time, you’re gonna see him later anyway. How are things? Got a husband back home, a wife? Hermann never mentioned what you do.”

“Government work, I’m afraid. At our father’s insistence,” Hermann said.

“What a dick. Uh, sorry, unless you like pushing papers? That would explain the suit,” Newt said. “I dunno, I’m sorry if you like him, but I’ve got nothing good to say about Lars considering the whole ‘Wall’ thing and what he did to Hermann.”

“‘Did’ to Hermann? Did he relate to you something about our father?” Hermann said. He knew for a fact he certainly had _not,_ in fact, he hadn’t spoken about his father at all since Lars threw in his support for the Wall of Life project.

“Nah, but you can tell he had it rough.” Newt shrugged. “That’s not the haircut of a guy who had a good childhood.”

“You honestly believe you can tell about a man’s childhood from his _haircut_?” Hermann scoffed.

“Well, that, and I did some digging once,” Newt said and added hurriedly. “Back when we were pen pals. Hermann wasn’t what you’d call upfront about his home life. I wouldn’t have known you _existed_ if not for his Wikipedia page, he definitely never brought you guys up. But I, uh, found some articles. The usual stuff for child prodigies: awards, lectures, interviews. Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t grow up that way too, but _I_ saw it. His dad dragged him around to show him off all the time when he should have been allowed to be a kid. Made him do these hours-long math proofs for his government buddies, talked him up as this prodigy to the press. That shit will ruin your life. It’s no wonder he got bullied, but Lars didn’t care. There’s two types of parents for child stars, the ones that help you, and the ones that cash in, and I got lucky. Hermann didn’t.” Newt gave Hermann an owlish look. “...Or not? You tell me, man. Maybe I’m way off base and Lars was Dad of the Year.”

Hermann cleared his throat, which had gone curiously tight. It had never occurred to him that Newton had taken such an interest in his life, that he had formed opinions on it, or been so protective of Hermann at any point. “No, you’re correct. We saw little of Hermann as a child except on holiday, for exactly the reasons you stated.”

His father had a regimen of public appearances set up for Hermann from the minute he showed aptitude for the sciences. He used those appearances to advance in his own image and, ostensibly, Hermann’s, and never failed to remind him that there were other prodigies out there even more advanced than him if he ever showed signs of slacking. Prodigies like young Geiszler at MIT, who was a year younger than Hermann and already had a Ph.D. They’d been competing for much longer than Newton perhaps realized. Half the reason _he’d_ sent that letter to Newton was the hopes that in the face of humanity’s destruction, they could be something more.

A pipe dream, in the end. The day they met, they’d barely exchanged pleasantries before Newton was tearing apart his research, and Hermann realized Lars had been right all along. They would only ever be rivals.

“But we were supposed to be talking about you!” Newt blurted, thus breaking the silence and jostling Hermann from his thoughts. He should have known Newton would always rush to fill any pause. “So, uh, no attachments, huh?”

“Why the interest in my marital status, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann shot back. After Newt’s interest in his life, it was jarring to remember that it was an interest he’d held long ago and that ‘Dietrich’ was his current topic of fascination.

But Newt didn’t seem bothered, or surprised in the least to be snapped at by a potential romantic partner. He only held up his hands and said easily, “Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Hermann gaped. No wonder Newton hadn’t had a date since Hermann knew him, the man had the subtlety and tact of a train wreck. “Even if I were available, and I must add that I’m not,” Dietrich had been married for several years now, and even if he wasn’t, Hermann wouldn’t want his brother within _miles_ of Dr. Geiszler, “wouldn’t an entanglement with me of all people make matters awkward with your lab partner?”

“With Hermann? Pfft, I wish.” Newt rolled his eyes. “He hasn’t looked up from his equations except to yell at me since 2017. I’ll die alone if I wait for _him_ to notice anything. I know this Shatterdome looks like a big place, but everyone’s taken or sitting out the dating scene ‘cause of the whole _end of the world_ thing. At least, that’s what they tell me.” Newton went paused thoughtfully for a moment, then rallied. “So you gotta cast that net wide, right? No one should have to face the apocalypse solo.”

Hermann went quiet. It was all a bit overwhelming, this insight into Newton’s life and thoughts under false premises. They hadn’t spoken this candidly since their letter writing days. _Dietrich_ would probably be put off or offended to be propositioned so blatantly by a random stranger, but Hermann knew well that was just Newt’s way. _Fortune favors the brave_  was his motto, and the man had no patience for long games. He liked to let the data speak for itself just as Hermann did, and expected that to be enough. Unsurprisingly, such a flirtation style hadn’t earned him many successes.

Guilt prodded at Hermann’s heart for the subterfuge. Would Newt be this candid were he being honest about his identity? Even the idea that he had _hidden_ it somehow felt ludicrous, he hadn’t set out to deceive the man. It was all a hilarious and rather improbable misunderstanding over a bit of hair product and a flashy suit.

It should never have gone this far. He should put a stop to it, but it was like watching a car accident in slow motion. He couldn’t look away from how Newton simply… talked. And talked, and talked, about matters far more fascinating than the latest batch of Kaiju samples, which was what he usually babbled to Hermann about in their lab. This was so much more personal. Hermann felt as if he were reading a gossip column or from the logs of one of those anonymous tell-all websites that had been so popular in his teen years, only this one about an individual he actually knew, and found himself wishing to know more about.

They reached the end of one of the Shatterdome’s many long hallways that led to the Hong Kong-facing entrance. Hermann had been sure to linger a short distance behind Newt to not give away that he knew the route and so the occasional hitch in his step wouldn’t show. They broke out into an overcast afternoon, and thankfully it was only a short distance to the edge of the base and the dim sum restaurant that was a popular spot for employees desperate to escape the Shatterdome’s cafeteria food. The restaurant’s main hall was the usual bustling chaos, but it had a separate bar area that was dimly lit and quiet at this time of day, and the shadows would likely hide what should have been the obvious fact of his identity.

Newt moved with easy confidence, this restaurant was just as much his home territory after all. At least he did until they were seated across from one another at one of the booths. Then, Newton glanced up just as Hermann opened the menu and took his reading glasses from his breast pocket. He did so without thinking, and was perusing the menu when he heard the hitch in Newton’s breath.

“Are you alright?” Hermann said, looking over the rim of his glasses at Newton.

“Sorry, it’s just… have I mentioned that your family resemblance is actually _uncanny?_ I was just thinking that it’d be nice to come here with Hermann sometime,” Newt said, and took out his menu, looking down at it as he added softly. “But he’s too… y’know. Hermann.”

“You spend hours cooped up together in that lab, wouldn’t lunch as well be unbearable?” Hermann said. It was reasonable to think he would have told Dietrich that detail, wasn’t it? At least it could be construed from observation, but Newton didn’t seem suspicious whatsoever at ‘Dietrich’s’ familiarity with his life.

“Yeah, but that’s _work,_ ” Newt huffed. He must have known the menu by now, but his eyes didn’t lift as he spoke, as if using the paper as a shield. “It’d be nice to get out once in a while, leave it all behind us. Jesus, even if it’s just for a fucking hour. We used to talk all the time. Well, write all the time. Sometimes I feel like I barely know him anymore except for the arguing. I don’t know if he’d even talk to me now if we didn’t.”

“From the sound of your frustrations with him, I’m surprised you have any desire to speak at all,” Hermann observed. There wasn’t a waiter in sight, and everyone else around them already had their food. He floundered for what to say to fill the time, what _Dietrich_ would say to _Newton_ in this scenario. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough go of it with my brother. I know he can be a… challenging person, at times. I would understand if you find working with him to be a trial.”

Newt’s head shot up. “Oh, no man, we kick ass together! I’m like, ten times more productive with Hermann to call my bullshit. It’s not the _working_ with him that’s hard, it’s the fact that’s all we do. Probably all we’ll ever do.” Newt’s lips turned up at the corner as the roguish grin returned. “Sorry if I made it weird earlier and came on too strong. I guess you could say I have a type, and unlike Hermann, you’re actually cool, and don’t hate me, and have fashion sense from this century. I had to at least take a stab at it, but it’s awesome that you’ve got someone back home, dude. Seriously, I hope they know how lucky they are. Now where the fuck is that waiter? I need dumplings. In my stomach. _Yesterday_.”

Newton nattered on, rattling off recommendations, bemoaning the silence of the bar area (which he was making a valiant effort to fill) and generally making them the center of unfriendly attention from all the other diners. Hermann didn’t hear any of it as he stared at the bilingual menu without seeing it.

_Newton thinks I hate him?_

Hermann was often exasperated with Newton, certainly. He took pleasure in their rivalry and liked to challenge Newton’s assumption when he got carried away with nonsense. Newton certainly had no problem with doing so in return, and he’d thought that the basis of their relationship, as it were. Not _friends_ , exactly, barely cordial. But valuable. Productive. The best he could hope to salvage after that disastrous meeting in 2017, when it became clear they’d never be anything more.

Hermann cleared his throat.

“I’m sure my brother doesn’t hate you,” he said. His voice sounded rough and strained in his ear, strange from the accent.

Newt gave a lopsided grin. “That’s cool of you to say, Diet, but no offense I spend way more time with Hermann than you probably do these days. I’d like to think I know the guy.”

Hermann bit back the urge to argue. Dietrich wouldn’t argue. Dietrich was always the diplomat, and besides, he didn’t share Hermann’s familiarity with this man. “That may be the case, but I am not just being kind for the sake of it. You see, Hermann often confides in me.”

The menu slipped in Newton’s hands. “Oh?” he said, his voice more high pitched even than usual.

“Yes, and you mustn’t take his…demeanor too seriously,” Hermann insisted. He leaned forward. His reflection was visible in Newton’s glasses, and perhaps it wasn’t a wonder that Newt didn’t recognize him. The dim restaurant lighting created a chiaroscuro effect entirely different from the fluorescents in their lab, so his face was all angled light and shadow. With his hair slicked back and the crisp lines of his suit, he barely recognized himself.

He reached out and took Newton’s hand in his. Newton squeaked, his face blushing red but he stared, rapt as Hermann leaned in. “He holds you in very high esteem, even if he does not show it.”

Newt snorted, apparently in spite of himself. “Yeah, right.”

Hermann’s hand tightened. “It’s true. Back when you were corresponding, Hermann would speak of you constantly.” It _was_ true, embarrassingly so. It had become something of a game at family gatherings for his siblings to tease him about his mysterious overseas boyfriend. He still winced at the memory of when that ended. He remembered Karla’s hand on his shoulder, comforting him when he returned home after. The awkward silence that followed whenever Newton was brought up again. “We all knew he was quite taken with you. I find it hard to believe your relationship has grown so sour after that.”

Newt smile turned sickly, and his hand retracted from Hermann’s grip as he sat back. “Maybe, but that was a long time ago. I kinda, umm, fucked it up that day? I thought he’d never speak to me again. Honestly, I’m just glad we’re able to be in the same room, and I try not to mess it up again by being too, y’know, _forward_ or talking about stuff besides work. He hates that.”

“How?” Hermann breathed, then cleared his throat. “How do you believe _you_ were the one who made a mistake that day? When… when Hermann told me about it, eventually, he seemed to indicate that he was the one in error.”

“What?” Newt blurted. “Why the hell would Hermann… Wait, no, there’s no way I’m having this conversation with his _brother_. Or _ever._ It’s the past, dude, we’ve both moved on.”

Hermann licked his lips, half tempted to drop the act right then and there to get some answers out of Newton, to tell him he was _wrong_. “But perhaps I could clarify some matters? Hermann did give me his perspective on the events of that day. I could at least tell you if there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I dunno, Diet, this is kinda personal,” Newt grimaced.

“You’ll take a complete stranger out to lunch and spend half the time going on about how _attractive_ he and his family are, but you won’t say what went wrong about a meeting in a coffee shop eight years ago?” Hermann said incredulously.

“Geez, Hermann even told you we were in a coffee shop?” Newt laughed weakly. “Rude. Super rude. That day was like…” Newt paused, fidgeting and looking down at his hands, “I dunno man, you’ve been really cool, but it’s just the one day I don’t really like to talk about, y’know? Or think about. I was the one who wanted to meet so _bad_ , and I _promised_ Hermann nothing would change if we did. That even if it sucked we’d stay friends, and then… I dunno. I got nervous, and I talk when I’m nervous, a lot. I was going to play it cool and keep it friendly, try not come on too strong with the whole _massive crush_ thing. But then I started flirting and he _really_ didn’t like that. I realized I’d _totally_ misread the situation, maybe he was straight and really freaked out, and that pissed _me_ off because my hopes had been _so high_ that day. So I started picking apart his research instead, just going to _town_ about every little thing I’d ever seen that was wrong with it, and then he started picking apart _mine_ even though he’s not in my field and, uh… We didn’t talk for almost a year after that. Before we used to write every day.” Newt shrugged miserably. “Honestly it’s just cool to share a lab again, I mean, what are the odds that we’d be the only two left? It’s probably best for both of us if we just pretend we never met before Hong Kong.”

Hermann felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. How were they only having this conversation _now_ , eight years later? How was _Dietrich_ getting the explanation of what happened that day that Hermann had always longed for? But he knew the answer to that one. After, when no messages came in from Newton, of course he couldn’t send any either. The resentment built every day there wasn’t a letter waiting in his mailbox because of course, _he_ was in the right, _he_ couldn’t be expected to make the first apology.

Why had he recoiled from Newton’s compliments? Why hadn’t he simply flirted with Newton in return? It was what he’d wanted to do. He’d found Newton’s appearance fascinating. Well, sickening and fascinating at once, as Hermann studied the emerging Kaiju outlines on Newt’s forearms out of the corner of his eye. Their intricacy had entranced him with the sweet sting of the forbidden. To be so totally unselfconscious in the pursuit of one’s passion, rather than searching constantly for the next _useful_ application for one’s mind... the very thought was at once horrifying and breathtaking.

How could someone so _free_ care about anyone as rigidly controlled as Hermann? He always did what he was told, abandoning his dreams of being a pilot in order to pursue abstract mathematics at his father’s behest once he showed an aptitude. Certainly he’d found happiness in his field, but it wasn’t until his father’s betrayal in favor of the Wall of Life that he had pulled himself completely from the man’s shadow to focus on the real fight of their lifetimes: the closing of the Breach.

Dietrich had never managed to break free. He still worked in their father’s offices.

Dietrich would have liked Newton. He would have been impressed by his audacity and would have chided his little brother for letting his pride get in the way of what could have been.

He squeezed Newton’s hand, arresting his fidgeting motions. “Newt, based on what Hermann told _me_ about that day, I think there’s been a dreadful misunderstanding. I’ll be going to dinner with my brother this evening. If you don’t mind, perhaps I can put in a good word? I doubt matters are as hopeless as they seem for you two.”

Newt barked a startled, hysterical laugh, pulling back wild-eyed. “What? No! That is, why… Why would you think there’s a _two_ of us at all?” Hermann raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Newt hung his head. “Ok, I miiiight still have a thing, and I can’t really stop you from talking to him but, uh, don’t make it weird? Please? Maybe just... tell him I’m sorry for what happened?”

“I’m sure that would mean a great deal to him,” Hermann said warmly.

A plan was beginning to form in his mind. It was elegant in its simplicity: he could hide out in his quarters for the evening, tell Newton the next day in the lab that “Dietrich” had only been in town for the day and had departed on an early flight. Tomorrow could be the start of a new life for the two of them. He could be more patient with Newton, more open, and perhaps they could regain a little of what they’d lost, what he’d thought gone forever.

“Oh thank god, you’re finally here!” Hermann perked up at the sight of Newt exclaiming over the waiter’s arrival. “Listen, this is what we need, yeah, _all_ of these,” Newt said, taking out a marked-up ala carte list of dumplings and shoving them at the waiter.

“And some waters, if you please,” Hermann called after the man as Newt hustled him away with their orders as quickly as possible. When Newton turned back he was grinning.

“So, where were we? Oh right, embarrassing childhood stories about Hermann. You owe me after that, man, _spill_.”

* * *

Hermann couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard, much less at his own expense. Newton’s giggles were contagious as Hermann related, from ‘Dietrich’s’ perspective, some of his more infamous childhood foibles. All of them were so distant he hardly minded if Newton knew or even spread them around. Like the time Karla had pretended to be a fish while they were vacationing by the sea and grabbed his ankle underwater so he screamed bloody murder. There were dozens such innocent stories, and even the ones that were not so embarrassing had Newton rapt.

He told of ‘Hermann’s’ early days at school, his accomplishments, the few friends he had, and Newton treated each topic with wide-eyed fascination. Hermann could practically see him jotting down notes in that strange and marvelous brain of his, as if Hermann were a new species of his beloved Kaiju. With anyone else the comparison would have been unflattering, but with Newton he was oddly touched by the interest.

It was only when the waiter pointedly bent between them to clean the table for the lunch to dinner turnover that Hermann realized it was already three in the afternoon.

“Oh man,” Newt said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes after pulling on his leather jacket. “No wonder Hermann tried to keep us apart, this stuff is gold, dude. He is _never_ going to forgive you for telling me all this.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around. But you need to get back to the lab,” Hermann announced as he stood, and hid his wince. The hours seated had kept the weight off his legs, but now his back was stiff, and it would be that much harder to keep his posture straight. “I don’t want to be responsible for keeping you from your work.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fresh out of samples anyway so things are pretty slow. How long are you in town? Maybe we can all grab drinks later this week, if Hermann doesn’t mind?” Newt said as he followed Hermann with puppy-like enthusiasm. Even in absentia, it seemed ‘Dietrich’ was always the charmer. Hermann wondered, if things had gone better, if he could have been earning these soft looks from Newton for years. If only he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get offended, if only he had recognized through Newt’s brashness his attempts to pay Hermann a compliment that day. If only he’d been a little less self-conscious, and a little more patient.

“I’m just in for the day, I’m afraid,” Hermann said, and almost regretted the look of disappointment that fell over Newton’s face. “I should get back to the Shatterdome now to meet him in any case.”

“Oh yeah, he should be done with that publishers’ meeting any minute now. The camera crew said they’d only be here for a few hours before they needed to get to their next shoot,” Newt said.

Hermann froze. _Oh… bugger._ The camera crew. He’d entirely forgotten about them, but they would need this suit back at the very least, and they’d mentioned wanting another round of photos before they finished for the day.

“Diet, are you alright? Did one of those dumplings not agree with you?”

Hermann shook himself. “I’m fine. I just realized I forgot something in my hotel. I’ll just stop by my brother’s quarters, and then I’m afraid I must be off.”

If he was lucky, the crew had despaired of finding him and gone home, perhaps they’d bill the publisher for the suit. If not, he would drop Newton at the lab and race back to his quarters for a spare cane and to drop off his dinner for the night. _If_ he was lucky. If not…

Newton continued to babble amicably beside him, but Hermann was lost in thought all the short way back to the Shatterdome as they passed personnel and a few familiar faces. Now he understood what he had missed earlier. They were staring at _him_. They recognized _him_ and found his appearance odd. It might already be a topic of gossip throughout the Shatterdome.

Ironically, Newton was the only one who knew enough about Hermann’s life to mistake him for his elder brother, and to assume that a man resembling Hermann but wearing strange clothes couldn’t possibly be him. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or sigh at the fact. For the moment, he was merely panicked, glancing this way and that through the halls, up until they reached the door of the lab.

“Now I _really_ must be going, Newt,” Hermann said, glancing over his shoulder. The breath _oof_ ed out of his body and he stumbled. When he looked down, Newton’s arms were wrapped around his waist, and he delivered a hearty, companionable smack to Hermann’s back.

“It was great to finally meet you, man!” Newton beamed. “Sorry it couldn’t be for longer, but you should write sometime! I swear, Hermann’s been _hiding_ his cool family from me.”

“Yes, it’s been a pleasure to meet you as well,” Hermann said distractedly. Was that a flash of a black turtleneck at the end of the hall? But Newt gripped his hand, shaking it vigorously and dragging his gaze back. “Shouldn’t you get back to work?”

“So eager to get rid of me? Now you _really_ sound like Hermann,” Newt said. Had Hermann’s accent slipped? He hadn’t been maintaining it as carefully. That was _definitely_ Mr. Wu, glaring daggers at him, flanked by his assistants as he beelined down the halls of the Shatterdome towards Hermann. “You can stop in if you want to hang out more until Hermann gets out, I can talk while I work. Heh, it’d be totally worth it to see his _face_ when he comes back and sees us...”

“Dr. Gottlieb!” Mr. Wu thundered.

Hermann’s body went cold. “Newton, get in the lab,” he hissed.

Newt’s smile wavered. “What? Diet, I told you it’s ok to call me Newt. What are these guys yelling about?”

“Just get in the bloody lab, Newton, or so help me…” Hermann snapped, pushing Newton with all his might through the heavy iron door and moving to close it. Pain lanced up his side, and his hand flew to his mangled hip beneath the expensive fitted suit.

“Dr. Gottlieb, we’ve been expecting you for two hours now,” Wu grated as he stopped in front of Hermann, waving a clipboard in front of him. “My team has another shoot across town in an hour which we’ve now had to postpone. I was under the impression I was working with a _professional_ , but if you can’t even be trusted to meet a very simple timetable…”

“Hey man, you’ve got it all wrong, this isn’t Hermann!” Newt snapped, and dread flooded Hermann as the smaller man shoved his way out of the lab, face flushed, ready for a fight.

Wu stared at Newton, then turned to Hermann. “What is he talking about? Dr. Gottlieb, this is ridiculous. If you will please come with us, I’d rather not waste any more time.”

“Hey, asshole, are you listening to me? Leave Dietrich the fuck alone!” Newt shrieked, and stepped between Hermann and Wu. “He doesn’t look anything like Hermann. I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but there’s no way anyone with a brain could mix these guys up, so just fuck off, will you?”

Wu raised his eyebrows behind his pink glasses and stared at Hermann over Newt’s shoulder. Silence fell, except for Newt’s outraged panting.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Hermann said stiffly, abandoning any pretense of Dietrich’s accent, “I’m afraid I forgot my cane in the lab. I’ll be only a moment.”

Wu nodded impatiently, but Newt watched Hermann go, his lips parted as understanding dawned. Hermann could all but feel Newton’s memories of the day slotting into place with the new revelation. What he had said. What Hermann had said. What he might have given away in confidence that they’d never reveal to each other.

He’d just unhooked his cane from the chair, sighing with relief when it settled into his hand when the ticking time bomb that was Newton exploded.

“What the _hell_ , man? No seriously, what the actual fuck?” Footsteps pounded into the lab and Hermann caught himself as a hand shoved against his arm, spinning him around to face Newton. He closed his eyes and gathered himself, before looking down at Newt working himself into a tantrum. It was just another fight, he reminded himself. He was supposed to laugh at all this when it was over.

Except there were tears in Newton’s eyes. They were red-rimmed, his whole face was red, burning with humiliation.

“Were you just going to let me spill my guts all day? What the fuck, Hermann? Was this all a joke to you, were you laughing at me the whole time for being so fucking stupid?” Newt shouted.

“I have to finish my meeting with Mr. Wu, Newton,” Hermann said under his breath. “We can discuss this later. I know I’ve fully earned your recrimination, but I promise, I never meant the charade to go on for that long.”

“How long _did_ you plan it for then?” Newt said. “Long enough to hear about how I fucked up that day? That’s what you wanted to know _so badly_ , wasn’t it? Even though I told you it was personal!”

Hermann’s temper flared. Dietrich would have kept his in check, but he wasn’t Dietrich. He never had been. “As personal as propositioning a man you thought was my brother? Or do you mean as personal as egging him on to give you details about my childhood for _blackmail_ purposes? Your words, not mine!”

“You could have said no!” Newt said, waving his arms. “At least _you_ got to decide what you told me! I didn’t get that option!”

“Well forgive me if I was too astonished at your lack of observational skills to feel particularly sensitive about your privacy!” Hermann snapped back. “If I had known all it took was a bit of hair product to make myself a stranger to you, I would have done so years ago and vanished from your radar. Perhaps then I would have had a bit of peace and quiet in my own lab!”

It was going all wrong, and worse, it wasn’t true. His stomach clenched for what he’d done to Newton, at the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t know how to stop. This was what had gone wrong all those years ago too, when he’d been too proud to admit he was embarrassed by Newton’s flirtation, that he hadn’t known how to cope with his regard so he had feigned outrage to change the subject. How relieved he’d been when the topic had turned to arguing because Hermann never had _friends_ , only colleagues, and he’d needed to defend his data far more often that he’d had a pleasant chat with a handsome stranger over lunch. He didn’t know what he was doing, or how to accept that Newt might not just _like_ him, but actually desired him in return, the one thing Hermann had been so careful to never reveal in any of their letters. He’d panicked and taken refuge in the familiar.

“I can’t _believe_ you’re trying to make this my fault!” Newt shouted. “All I did was offer to take your brother out to lunch! How the hell am _I_ the bad guy in any of this?”

“You’re not!” Hermann’s cane clattered to the ground as he seized Newt’s shoulders, bending back to his usual stoop to look him in the eye. “And it wasn’t your fault in the coffee shop that day, either! It was mine. I was caught off guard, and instead of setting things right, I let the situation spiral out of control and then I blamed you afterwards for what happened when all you tried to do was be a friend to me.” He looked past Newton to Wu. “Can we please resume this shoot another time? I’ll fully reimburse your team, out of my own pocket if necessary, but my colleague and I have important matters to discuss, and I…”

Newton smacked his arms away and took a step back out of Hermann’s grip. Hermann’s leg shuddered, and he barely caught himself on the edge of the desk before collapsing. Newt’s gaze flickered to Hermann’s leg, and his expression tightened before the anger returned as if it had never left. “Forget it, go finish your damn shoot. You’ll need it if anyone is going to take you seriously this time around.” Newt looked over his shoulder and shot a thumbs up at Wu. “Sorry about that, man, he’s all yours now. Nice work, by the way, you almost made him look human for once.”

“Newton,” Hermann called after Newt as he stormed over to his side of the lab without looking back. “After, could we please talk? I’d like to extend to you my apologies and take the opportunity to explain myself.”

“Yeah I get it, your evening’s free now that ‘Dietrich’ took off,” Newt snapped. “Well, mine isn’t. You know what, I think you’ve been right about this lab setup all along. There’s no reason we should have to share a space. What do you need, a couple computers and a wall to write on? I’ll ask Pentecost to clear out a broom closet for you and we’ll call it even. God knows I shouldn’t have to be the one to move after that bullshit you just pulled!”

Hermann’s lips parted, trying to think of a retort that wouldn’t come. His throat was closing up, when he heard an annoyed cough from the doorway. Wu glared, flanked by his assistants, and jerked his head for Hermann to follow.

He cast a last, desperate look at Newton, who was back at his work table rooting around for a scalpel and already had his headphones back on. Then Hermann knelt painfully to the floor to retrieve his cane and followed Wu out.

* * *

It was another hour of shoots before Hermann was asked to return the suit and change back into his own, familiar clothes. The sweater-vest was a welcome addition in the cavernous cold of the Shatterdome. One of the assistants was flipping through the digital stills on a screen as Hermann passed by, and he could not help but steal a glance. They already seemed more satisfied with this newest batch and he could see why.

Before, he’d been uncomfortable in the new suit, and his awkwardness showed. But after several hours of getting into the character of ‘Dietrich’, he’d grown accustomed to the new identity as well as the suit. In the latest shots, Hermann looked too preoccupied with matters in his mind to be concerned with the mere material world, though it was hardly the great heights of abstract mathematics that consumed him. All throughout the shoot, he’d been unable to get Newton out of his mind, the look of betrayal, his pained shouting.

The result was that Hermann seemed a completely different person. Back straight, the black and white contrast of the suit matching his pale skin and dark hair. Eyes sad. His appearance was one eminently suited for the topic of this particular book: that of a man who had just learned that his world was about to end.

* * *

He couldn’t bear to return to the lab and face Newton’s silence, which was all he would deserve in any case. He went to his quarters instead to take a painkiller and a long bath to ease his leg, relieved as well to rinse the product from his hair, and with it the last vestiges of ‘Dietrich’. He switched to his pajamas and a dressing gown to settle in for an early night. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to focus on his equations in any event, and he had no need to leave his room given the extra dim sum from the afternoon he had waiting, though he found he had no appetite.

It was nearly nine o’clock, not long before he usually sought his bed when the knock came at the door. He didn’t need to check before he opened it. He already knew who it was.

Newton had switched from any semblance of work-appropriate attire into a faded band shirt and ripped jeans so old they’d gone soft and worn-through at the knees. The man ran hot and never seemed to need any of the piled layers Hermann required just to survive in this rust bucket of a building. His tattoos stood out bright on his arms. “Hey,” Newt said. His tone was hard, but his eyes were shadowed. “Can I come in?”

Hermann nodded and stepped out of the way to let Newt into his quarters. He took out the desk chair and set it aside for Newt to sit on and took the bed for himself. It would have been unbearably intimate, but he was too weary to care.

Newt settled on the chair, hands on his knees, and looked around. Hermann’s room was minimalist, to put it generously, carpeted to reduce the chill, with work papers scattered about. Most of the wall space was covered in low bookshelves. Newt nodded towards the door. “Did you see that there? That was me asking for permission and not wearing, I dunno, a fucking disguise or some shit. Because I’m nice like that.”

“Perhaps,” Hermann murmured. “Or you could be a stranger wearing a very convincing Newton costume.”

Newton’s lip twitched at the admittedly terrible joke and he sighed and hung his head. “What the fuck was that, Hermann? I know we aren’t exactly friends, but that was low.”

“So you do want to hear an explanation after all?” Hermann said in surprise.

“I wanted to hear it then.” Newt shrugged. “But I knew I needed to cool off first. Clear my head, give you some time to squirm.”

“Understandable,” Hermann said, and took a deep breath. “Fine. First things first, let me extend to you my sincerest apologies, Newton. I violated your privacy and your trust. I never intended the prank to go as far as it did, but that is no excuse. I should have put a stop to it the minute I realized it had led you to give away information you would not otherwise share.”

“It’s ok. I mean, apology accepted,” Newt said waving his hand as if to clear smoke from the air. “I gotta admit, it would have been pretty funny, if not for the whole... oversharing... thing. I would have done the same in your position if I got that kind of chance. And I, uh, didn't go to Pentecost. God, can you imagine trying to _explain_ this to him? Honestly, _I_ couldn’t believe how bad I fell for it so I, uh, went to the med bay after and sure enough…” Newt took his glasses from his eyes, immediately squinting without them, and held them up for Hermann’s inspection. “Turns out I’m blind as a fucking bat and this prescription is about a thousand years out of date. I just didn’t notice because most of my work is close up. So you did me a favor there before something _really_ bad could happen.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be so flattered then that you found ‘Dietrich’ attractive?” Hermann said with a faint smile.

“Oh, no dude, blind or not I could tell from a mile away that you’re fucking _hot_ when you lose the grandpa pants and comb your hair for once,” Newt said. “And I got close enough to _really_ enjoy the view a few times. What the hell, man? Where have you been _hiding_ all of that? You could have been a supermodel instead of going into science, those cheekbones could cut _glass_.”

Hermann shifted and grimaced. “The compliment is appreciated, Newton, but I’d thank you not to mock me in the same breath.”

“Mock you? Listen, you’ll _know_ when I’m mocking you. After that shit you pulled, I have earned the right to at least a _month_ of non-stop mocking you, and there’s nothing you can do about it, but this is the absolute god's-honest truth. You’re fucking hot, dude, accept it.”

Hermann blushed, his cheeks and ears burning. It was too much. No one had ever complimented his looks before, and he’d thought he liked it that way. He thought he didn’t need to be admired for his appearance, only for his mind, and he dressed appropriately for that aim. He’d been too young for too long in his field, and yearned for the days when age would grant him the respect that he could never quite seem to gain, least of all from Newton.

“I wish I had known you weren't mocking me that day. It wasn’t that I was upset over the flirtation, Newton,” Hermann said. His voice was low and shaking, as each word was wrenched from a corner of his heart he’d ruthlessly buried years ago. That day had hurt too much for him to do anything else. “It's just that no one had ever taken an interest before, and you were…loud, and brash, and I was terrified that you would take one look at me in person and lose all respect. It had happened before, with colleagues who saw how young I was and started treating me like one of their students. But I didn’t want you to treat me as a student. After our letters…I didn’t dare put it into words at the time, but I didn’t want you to treat me like a colleague either. I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted to discuss… everything, more than just our work. I wanted to hear your opinions on the world, and I wanted to be someone you wanted to share those opinions with. But I didn’t know how. So when you started attacking my research, I was relieved. I knew where I stood. I thought if I could just win the debate, then maybe you would respect me in person too, and maybe we could become more from there. But something went wrong. No matter what I said, you just kept getting angrier. I had offended you, somehow. I didn’t know how, but in the end it made matters easier. I didn’t need to be afraid anymore, because the worst had already happened. I did my best to forget you.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “And then, here you were. In Hong Kong, at the end of the world.”

“...Wow, you’re really dumb,” Newt said breathlessly then broke into helpless giggles. “I can’t believe it, I never would have guessed how dumb you are given your, well, _everything_.”

Hermann’s stomach dropped like a stone. Newton’s shoulders shook as he giggled into his hands, and his eyes shone as he looked at Hermann and crinkled at the edges. An icy calm settled over Hermann and he rose to his feet, and pointed towards the door.

“Get out,” Hermann said.

Newton stopped laughing. “Hermann!” he gaped, and scrambled to his feet, putting his hands out in front of him. “Whoa, wait a second, dude. Calm down. This is the same thing that happened last time, isn't it? Just chill, it’s not what you think.”

“How could I think anything else than that you just called me an idiot?” Hermann said icily.

“See, that’s half the problem. Oh my god, how did I not see it? Hermann, I don’t think you’re an idiot! You’re really, really, terrifyingly intelligent. Like on a daily basis I’m seriously intimidated by how smart you are. But you are also really, really dumb.”

Newt spread his hands and Hermann waited, jaw clenched for Newton to follow through on making this any better, with something beside this knowing look he was giving Hermann as if he perfectly understood what had just happened. “I was in love with you, dude! You didn’t need to impress me! You were already the coolest person I knew in the whole world! I wanted to talk to you about everything, and take you to the movies, and move in together, and peer review each other’s papers! I wanted to take you on a date _that day_ but I didn’t want to come on too strong in case you weren’t ready for that yet and so: coffee. That’s what you do, right? When you’re not sure if the other person likes you back?”

Hermann froze as Newton took a step closer, looking up at his face. He felt the palpable loss of ‘Dietrich’, the tailored suit and the height, the feeling of being a different person, a better person, one who was patient and diplomatic and maybe even handsome. Right now, in his striped pajamas and dressing gown, he felt crooked and shabby, hunched over the cane clutched in his hand, with an angular face, a brain that wouldn’t stop thinking, and too-wide lips that he licked nervously.

“You said ‘was’,” Hermann said hesitantly. “Past tense. You _were_ in love with me that day.”

“Well, could you blame me if I moved on? You're kind of a jerk. I mean, you just spent all day pretending to be your sexy older brother and then seduced me into spilling all my secrets,” Newt said. He leaned back and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Hermann.

His body was trembling. Newt stood there so calmly, but then he did not have to live with the shame of that subterfuge or those mistakes. “D-Do you think you ever could again?” Hermann said. He looked down at his knuckles clenching white over the head of his cane. He couldn’t bear to meet Newton’s eye. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I did learn something about myself today, Newton. I was petty and cruel to you, all for the sake of my own amusement. I used lies and social pressure to force you to talk about events you wished left in the past. But I’m not sorry it happened. I’m only sorry we did not have that talk sooner, without false pretense, and I want to do better by you from now on. Starting tomorrow, it was my plan to use the information I learned as ‘Dietrich’ to… to turn over a new leaf with you. Treat you more kindly, and pass it off that my brother had gotten through to me.” Hermann grimaced. “My plan hasn’t altered, I still intend to change my ways. It seems only fair you should know that after I hid so much. And perhaps, sometime in the future, I could regain some measure of your trust, maybe even your regard.”

“I dunno,” Newt drawled. “That sounds like a lot of steps. I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m not sure I have the energy for another two-year-long correspondence like that.”

Hermann flinched. Weakness swept his body, and it no longer seemed worth the effort to remain standing. He sat heavily on the bed. “I’m sorry, Newton. I’m sorry it was my fault we missed our chance that day.”

He put his head in his hands. The day crashed around him. The discomfort of the shoot, the small, petty instinct to play a prank on Newt, the incredulity when it worked, the soft, warm glow inside him as they laughed over his own innocent childhood foibles. The overpowering shame of Newt’s realization. Would it have really been better if he had pulled off the trick, and tried to be a better man the next day while Newt lived in ignorance? Right now, anything felt better than what happened.

The bed dipped beside him, and a warm weight settled against his shoulders. Hermann looked up to see Newt leaning against him. A half smile quirked the corner of his lips, but otherwise his expression was soft. “Hey,” he said gently. “You really always jump to the worst conclusion, huh? I guess that’s why you’re so good at predictions but so bad at shit like this.”

“Like what...?” Hermann frowned and turned his head for a further retort when Newton kissed him.

Then there were soft hands on his cheeks and stubble scraping his lips because they hadn’t lined up quite right. It wasn’t the uncomfortable or dutiful fumblings of his past relationships. Newton sighed against his mouth and when his tongue flicked at Hermann’s lips he gasped and parted them for Newt’s exploration. Time lost meaning before Newton broke away, pressing their foreheads together as he panted against Hermann’s lips.

“I feel like I earned that one after today,” Newt grinned. He pulled away a little and studied Hermann’s face. “Was that ok?”

“God yes,” Hermann said, overcome as he pressed their lips together again. He was dizzy with relief and confusion, with seeing what he’d thought would be years of struggle just to get back the tiniest scrap of Newton’s friendship collapse into no time at all. It was so easy, kissing Newton. It could have been so easy for so long, but he pushed that thought away and focused on the present.

“Wow,” Newt said looking dazed as they broke away panting. “I can’t believe… I got to kiss Dietrich Gottlieb on the first date.”

“Alright, get out.”

Newton only laughed.

“I’m serious, Geiszler, get the hell out,” Hermann began, but couldn’t keep the grin back when Newton swooped in and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have a moment, I would **deeply** appreciate a comment to hear what you thought!
> 
> You can also share this fic on Tumblr from the original post [here](https://avelera.tumblr.com/post/181111969325/a-sharp-dressed-man-11978-words-by-avelera).
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> You can find an audiobook version of this story read by the author [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8Ib33EYXSY).
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> If you would like an alert for when I publish original novels and short stories, you can sign up [here](http://eepurl.com/dnzuV1).


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